A single spark can start a prairie fire

While resting in a patch of woods, Liu Ying and the others gathered around, asking you what to do next and where to go.

You ask the crowd.

"Do any of you want to go back to the life you had before? From the moment you were born, branded as 'sinners,' your only purpose in life was to work for the Church, feeding those fat, lazy parasites?"

Their answer is unanimous. Men and women alike raise their fists high.

"Never! Never! Never!"

You signal for everyone to keep their voices down, so as not to attract attention.

You smile.

"Did you all think I was going to tell you next: come with me, overthrow the Church, and build a nation of our own on Fubao Star?"

They exchange glances. That is exactly what they were thinking.

Though the concept of a "nation" is still vague to them, a bit of explanation would make it clear.

"Folks, it can't be done."

You learned from Luo Ku the true scale of the Winged God Cult. It is far beyond what you, with a band of mortals, can hope to challenge.

So there is only one path ahead.

"Run! Leave Fubao Star! Not every planet is as extreme as this one in crushing humans. We can find a place where you can live out your days in peace!"

"How do we run?"

"Seize resources, find a starship, reach the starport!"

Year ten, age thirty-four.

After the White Porridge Uprising, the Winged God Cult on Fubao Star issued a wanted order for you.

Your portrait is plastered all over the planet.

Cultivators from the eight legions search house to house, turning the homes of every common folk upside down.

Because you are human, and the miners who rebelled with you are also human.

In this storm, the humans suffer persecution once again.

They assume you are all kin, that you must know where you're hiding, and they begin rounding up humans everywhere, torturing them for answers.

Countless humans die in the process.

Meanwhile, you lead eight hundred miners along the most difficult and remote roads toward the coordinates left by Old Zhang—the location of his master's abandoned starship.

What if you had the strength to seize a Winged God Cult starship?

The answer is no.

Because there are none.

To prevent third-tier star residents—and it's not just humans, though humans suffer the worst—from leaving their planets, the Winged God Cult's own ships traveling between second-tier and third-tier stars dock at the starport, unload and load passengers in an instant, then fly off immediately. They never linger.

So your only chance to escape this third-tier star is the starship left by Old Zhang's master.

Along the way, you raid every ore vein you come across.

You send four fearless clones ahead as vanguards to draw enemy fire, while you secretly stack Steel among the enemy ranks.

By the time they see a hundred-meter-tall you trampling everything in sight, Liu Ying and the miners move in to clear the battlefield.

Though there are still casualties, the mortality rate is remarkably low.

Each time you take down a mine, your stock of source stones, weapons, armor, and the number of humans following you all increase.

Gradually, your ranks swell.

The initial eight hundred become a spark that ignites the flames of human uprisings across the land.

Some rebel groups are snuffed out.

Some merge with yours.

You are proclaimed Grand Marshal by all the rebel forces.

Your ability to conjure white porridge from thin air is no longer a secret.

This power—unseen even among high-level cultivators—makes it all too easy for people to mythologize you.

Though you repeatedly insist you are no deity, the rebel armies remain steadfast in their belief: even if you are not a god, you are surely a god's envoy on earth, the savior of humanity.

Year eleven, age thirty-five.

Now, the direct followers under your command number over ten thousand, and countless more rebel forces across the land answer your call.

Along the way, you use the Infinite White Porridge as emergency rations, and you use the Divine Weapon Revelation to strengthen the weapons taken from enemies, arming your own people.

You weather countless pursuits and crises.

Almost every day, new humans join your ranks, and comrades who fought beside you fall in the chase.

You are not only the commander of your soldiers—you are their teacher.

Whenever there is no battle, you teach a group of officers to read and write, instilling in them a philosophy of optimism, initiative, fighting spirit, and resilience.

Then those officers pass the knowledge down to those beneath them.

You tell the suffering humans of Fubao Star about how glorious humanity once was—leaders of all races, bearers of boundless heritage, to whom the myriad worlds bowed.

Of course, you don't mention the Void Realm. They couldn't comprehend concepts like the Void and the Material anyway.

You also teach cultivation methods, allowing those with aptitude to begin their training.

You arm their minds with knowledge and culture, and their bodies with techniques and cultivation.

Within just a few short years, the humans of Fubao Star standing beside you have been utterly transformed in spirit and bearing.

Year twelve, age thirty-six.

Kaideli is a white-robed priest.

Recently, he received reports of rebel activity near his subordinate branch—possibly the very force led by the Grand Marshal himself!

Kaideli is beside himself with excitement.

He has longed for a promotion to red-robed cardinal, but never had the right opportunity or opening.

And here, clearly, is a ready-made, monumental achievement delivered to his doorstep!

Kaideli mobilizes every legion in the branch, and with source stones, hires experts of the Qi Transformation and Dan Formation stages from other races, all to launch a pincer attack on your rebel force.

The gap in strength is still too vast.

In that battle, more than half of the ten thousand directly loyal troops fall. Only three thousand manage to escape with vital supplies—barely—and even they are scattered, reuniting only later at a designated meeting point.

What allows their escape is your decision as Marshal to cover the rear personally.

"Go! Don't worry about me!"

"Marshal!!"

"That's an order!! Don't let our sacrifice and effort be in vain!"

This parting of ways, this bond of comrades-in-arms facing death, fills Kaideli's side with smug satisfaction.

"Kaideli! Let my people go, and I'll come quietly! If I fight to the death, a lot of you will die!"

Kaideli does the math. True enough—you're the one that matters; the rest aren't worth the trouble.

He agrees. You are taken alive.

Then, before the entire branch, he carries out your execution by hanging.

"Hahaha! I killed Chen Yi! I've earned a great merit!"

One month later.

"Kaideli! Let my people go, and I'll come quietly!"

Staring at another you standing before him, speaking nearly identical words, Kaideli rubs his eyes in disbelief.

"Fuck, am I seeing things? Wasn't this bastard already dead??"

"Never mind, Kaideli caught you again and hanged you again."

"Hahaha! I killed Chen Yi again! I've scored another major victory!!"